Bikes and their owners meet at the Narellan Maccas, south of Sydney, at 7:45am on the first day - a Friday. Cruelly, that means a 5:30am wake-up for most. Weather was perfect - sunny & warm - not hot. 18 or so participants on a range of (mostly) Japanese road machinery, with a few German bikes for good measure (keeping the European end up).

The group all communicate via the net and subscribe to the sydride mail server. Two women grace our presence - Sue on a battle scarred Honda Transalp, and Judith on a raunchy GSX-R 750. The tour had been 4 months in the planning - ever since an extraordinarily successful ride by the group to the Oxley Hwy, in northern NSW, the year before (1997) year.

Laurie, (ZZR1100), master organiser, distributed route maps. Starters were thumbed, rumbling machinery filtered the air, locals stared nervously, and in an orderly file we motored down the Hume to RV at Mittagong, where more participants were to join.

The fun button was pushed as we peel off at Bowral to connect through the rolling farms of the Southern Highlands, before dropping down to the Kangaroo Valley and the coast. Judith's gear sack objects to the Barrengarry escarpment twisties and promptly falls off the GSXR. Happily bike, rider and luggage are soon reunited and tied down firmly.

Cambewarra Mtn separates this scenic valley from the NSW south coast town of Nowra - and is quickly climbed over by a series of poor quality, high trafficked twisties. Warms the tyres though and sets the hooning mood for the trip.

We filled up at Ulludulla. Some bikes requiring PULP (Premium) to avoid the dreaded pinging from pre-ignition. That's what you get with today's high compression engines. More orderly motoring down the NSW south coast - along the Princes Hwy - to Batemans Bay before turning inland for the town of Nelligen. A beautiful spot by the Clyde river and the group exhausts the local café with a score of orders for works burgers. A tour bus of Women's Weekly world discovery tour geriatrics fawn over the BMWs - a K1100LTSE and a K1200RS. Our group watches from a distance, making disparaging comments like; "does drool damage paintwork?" and; "just proves that Beemers only attract old farts!"

Then it was on to the Kings Hwy, sweepers snaking west through coastal temperate rainforest, then climbing to the high country east of Canberra via some short-lived twisties. Hardly enough to get the adrenalin pumping - especially as plod is cruising in a marked vehicle. He manages not to ping any of us - must be a very disappointing day for him. Plod displays responsible driving by performing a screaming u-turn in front of Tony (K1100LT), and then cruising for victims at 40km/h in a 70 zone. Thankfully for the group, this is the first and last pursuit vehicle we see on the four day tour - although not our last brush with the law.

Filled the tanks again at Bungendore. Laurie's carefully organised tag system - to get the large group though all the tricky turn-offs in the route ahead - fails not 50m down the road as the last three are not 'tagged' - and take the wrong turn. (In fairness the system works well later in the trip). Eventually everyone makes it to the next meeting spot - Coolac - south of Yass on the Hume Hwy. The pub here is a welcome break - but an unwelcome break for Ben, literally, as his immaculate TRX850 sinks its stand into the hot asphalt and topples over. Bent clutch lever and small crack in the fairing - he can easily ride on.

We turn off the Hume at last for a rough sealed track (with a few kms of good dirt) to Adjungbilly, so that we can scrape over the Black Range to Tumut. The sealed sweepers are not so sweet though as loose road works gravel quell any inspired heroics. Tippy-toe caution all round as day one comes to an end at the Royal Hotel, in the town that shares its name with several of the hydro-electric power stations in the Snowies. Comfortable accommodation round back of the pub for most, a few elect to camp, and the group settles into some light drinking and carousing over a bistro dinner. You can imagine the stories swapped as combined decades of motorcycling tales spill out over the beer soaked tables.

We're all pleasantly exhausted. All riders and bikes are safe and well (so far). Sleep comes easy for some, and hard for others as their brains keep buzzing - mulling over the riding roads ahead. Drifting off to sleep, my left foot jerks spasmodically as I toe an imaginary gearbox.

Next morning the rallying call sounds as bike engines are warmed up - exhaust fumes gassing us out of our rooms. The air cool & crisp - another perfect riding day. Laurie leads the procession out of town along the famous Snowy Mountains Highway. This extraordinary piece of road construction connects Tumut to Adaminaby, Cooma and eventually Bega on the NSW south coast. We're motoring in a sou-east direction, which takes us into the wilds of the Kosciusko National Park. Climbing the cold dry farmland with its sparse grasses beside Blowering Reservoir, still in heavy shadow. The early hour gives the landscape and air a winter quality despite the mid-summer skies. I find it delightfully refreshing - and with the heated grips on the K1200RS set to full toasty - I'm somewhat protected from the early chill. Some others with slipperier fairings and no heating stop to don extra clothing under their leathers and hug for warmth.

Big grey kangaroos by the dozens peer fearlessly at us from the fields close by the roadside. Road kill is everywhere - furry road balloons as we affectionately know them. As high speed arguments with large wildlife would result in pain for all parties - we keep speeds way down for now, and a scanning eye far ahead.

We're soon climbing into the National Park - up to the high country with alpine grasses, snow gum forests and peat bog lakes. Some short, gnarly twisties around Talbingo Mtn allow us to warm our tyres. Neil (CBR1100XX) proves that grunt does count and proceeds to use the brutal power of the Honda to squirt ahead despite the taxing surface and nasty corners. His brand new Dunlop D207 rear helps - although by trip's end - 2,500kms later - the bike's weight and power delivery chews the tyre so badly it looks like black shag-pile carpet.

Topping out onto the alpine tundra - the road surface quality improves dramatically, and curious yellow paint for line markings prove the road is often snow and ice bound in winter. The Snowy Mtns Hwy is now a series of short straights and constant-radius linked sweepers that rise and fall gently over the high country plains. Jeff's VFR750, Neil's CBR1100XX and my K1200RS hunt through these in a small pack. For me, the Beemer is a bahnburner par excellence - holding a rock-steady line around open-sighted 75km/h curves at unprintable speeds. When in this zone - the K12 just inspires supreme confidence - happily aided by smooth surfaces and rear suspension cranked close to max in both preload and rebound damping.

As a corner sucks toward me, periphery blurring - my focus is absolute - there's no room for distractions like work or home worries. Total commitment is demanded and given. I blip the gearbox down to 4th, hang a cheek off the seat and slide the knee on that side forward and down. I transfer my weight toward the front of the bike by crouching low over the windscreen. The bike turns in steadily, following my gaze, heeling over more and more. She's rock solid - no wallowing, shimmying or deviation from the chosen line. Some muscle is required with the wide clip-ons to force her to commit harder & deeper to the corner if it tightens. This is no 916 where you think a line change and it takes it - this puppy needs pressure on the bars to take a more aggressive line during the sweeper. By the apex the pleasure that this perfect corner gives me is indescribable. I roll on a good handful of throttle, the 1200cc motor gives a teutonic growl (the exhaust is ridiculously quiet) and grunts the machine out of the corner. A tendency to want to run wide upon powered exit is countered with more muscle on the clip-ons - keeping the lean angle on longer than shorter wheel-based machines.  The tacho is swinging madly to redline as I snatch 5th gear - and the next linked corner is sucked toward me - the process repeating. Rolling the throttle and using the gearbox means no hard braking is required - providing a smooth, elastic progression for maximum satisfaction.

We've chosen an average w/e out of ankle-biter holidays for the trip - so Sheila and Bruce and the kids are happily absent from the roads. We pass only a few vehicles all the way to Adaminaby.

The short series of twisties before Adaminaby are thrown in to keep you honest about your concentration - cause refocusing from a high-speed sweeper zone into a short aspect, throw-your-weight-around zone is a tough ask. It's so easy to over-cook the first few corners as the road suddenly tightens. The road quality is excellent, other than one corner with a few stones and another with a deceptive decreasing radius in the last third.

At the Adaminaby BP we're chuffed to find PULP on sale. This is our first stop after the trip's first real road of purpose. Everyone has grins from ear-to-ear as they pull over and squeeze off their helmets. The bikes stink of over-worked parts and sigh in that motorcycle way - "tinka, tink, tinka, tink". We're soon babbling to each other like school kids on an excursion to Dreamworld. The atmosphere of excited awe is infectious even for the old timers who've known this road many times before. For me, it's the first - and its easy to see why this long ribbon of tar is one of the most popular biking roads in the country.

Great to see everyone getting on like proverbial houses on fire. We're from all works of life and vary in ages from early twenties to late forties - yet the common thread of passion glues us socially in a way you can observe only in other extreme sports groups.

All bikes are behaving themselves so far - although Andrew's ZZR1100 has a faulty starter - but he's a tall strong bloke and becomes adept at the old-fashioned racing-style bump start. Sue's Transalp drinks more oil than fuel, and Judith's ex-racing GSX-R 750 has trouble starting when cold. Amazingly, Rob on an XJ900 with 180,000kms on the odo' has no problems with the ancient Yammie....

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